


Reunion

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 07:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18960232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: When Debbie's team disperses after the Met Gala job,  there's one place that shehasto go. But the Ocean siblings have always been good at defying expectations.





	Reunion

Debbie has never visited her brother’s grave before. Apparently there hadn’t been been a funeral, which gives her pause, though she ignores the suggestion lurking at the back of her mind.

When she gets there, she’s confronted by a wall of white marble, etched with names and dates. Danny’s is slap-bang in the middle. In an odd way, she thinks that it suits him - it’s not modest, but it’s got the discretion that defines the life of a conman. Or conwoman. 

There’s a simple wooden bench in front of it, so she settles herself and pours herself a martini. It feels over-the-top, but it’s as he would’ve wanted. It’s that thought that colours her mood, a little regretful, though she’s beyond mourning now.

She raises her glass in a silent toast. “You would’ve loved it,” she tells the plaque. She takes a sip, savours it, thoughtful.

“Would’ve loved what?” says a voice behind her.

Her stomach drops. She recognises the voice, but she doesn’t turn. She’s not about to give him that satisfaction.

“The Met Gala. It was a fun night.”

“The Toussaint? That was you?”

Hearing him speak again, there’s no doubt it’s her brother. And while she’s surprised, she’s not shocked. Somehow. “Yep.”

He’s beside her now, looking at his own memorial plaque. From what she can tell, he looks quizzical, though she still hadn’t turned to face him. “I’m impressed. That’s almost as good as some of the shit I’ve pulled off.”

“Better."

She offers him her martini glass.

He takes a sip, savouring it. Out of the corner of his eye, he gives her an appreciative glance. “Damn, that’s some good gin.”

“Monkey 47, Distiller’s Cut.” Debbie takes her glass back. It’s not her favourite, but she may as well try things, now that she could afford them.  _ I’ve only tried it once _ , Nine Ball had told her while recommending the stuff,  _ but damn, it was worth it _ .

He pursued his lips, impressed. “Expensive.”

“Hey, I can afford it,” she says with a smirk. It’s then, only then, that she angles her body so that she can look him in the eye. “I’m several million dollars richer than you.”

Visually, she skims over him. He’s much the same as she remembers; a little older, a little greyer. A bit scrappy around the edges.

“So, how did you do it?”

Ah, that’s the question. It’s so in-character for her brother - in fact, if he hadn’t asked, she feels that she’d be rather offended.

“I’ll tell you over lunch.”

“Alright. But you’re paying.”

She shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “Deal.”

* * *

In reality, they’re both out of the loop when it comes to restaurants in New York: Debbie’s been too busy since she got out of prison, while Danny claims to have been travelling. She’s not sure how much she believes that story, but she temporarily accepts it. In the end, they pick the first semi-fancy restaurant they can find. It serves Italian-French fusion food, which sounds like a recipe for disaster, it’s decked out in navy blue, and it’s about half full. In all honesty, it’s nothing spectacular, but the maître d’ offers them a nice table by the window, out of earshot of the other customers.

They sit down, but Debbie doesn’t launch into it straight away. Instead, she takes her time, looking over the menu. She knows that she needs to be discreet, so she wants a few minutes to scope the lie of the land first. Just to make sure no one’s about to eavesdrop.

Small talk seems a good place to start. Besides, she’s dying to know what he’s been up to. “How’s life treating you?”

It’s stilted. Perhaps that’s natural, given the amount of time they’ve spent apart. But their underlying siblinghood is there, somewhere; they just have to warm up to it.

“Not as well as it’s been treating you, apparently. But it’s not been too bad, either.”

“How’s Tess?”

“She’s good. Busy. She’s working as a curator again,” he answers, not without a touch of pride. “How’s Lou?”

“Well, Lou is Lou.” Debbie takes a sip of her water. “Right now, she’s on a road trip. She sends me postcards.”

His eyebrows draw together thoughtfully. Then he leans forward, conspiratorial. “She was part of the Met job, though?”

She tilts her head. “Of course.”

“How many people?”

“Seven. Eight if you include-” Debbie breaks off. She’s not being coy. It’s just that she still can’t quite believe that it had panned out the way it had. It had worked out even better than she could have planned it.

“Include who?”

“Daphne Kluger.”

Danny’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” She enunciates the word with a certain satisfaction.

He grins. “How?”

“It was an accident, actually,” she admits. “She was onto us. The obvious thing would have been for her to report us to the police, but joining the team was a more appealing option.”

The waiter appears then, so they cease talking. It’s not worth the risk - anyone that overhears them could potentially join the dots and land Debbie back in prison for good. Maybe Danny, too, depending on how he’s been spending his afterlife.

Once their order has been taken and the man is a safe distance away, she adds, “She’s the one that planted the diamonds in Claude Becker’s apartment.”

His eyes light up with a mixture of admiration and schadenfreude. “So you  _ did _ frame him. As soon as you said you’d done it, I guessed that you’d framed him. Revenge is sweet, right?”

His words have a ring of experience, of course.

“Yes, it is,” she replies, allowing herself a smirk. She’s not ashamed to admit that, in her eyes, Becker got exactly what he deserved. And then, because she can’t help wanting to show off and make her brother a tiny bit jealous, she continues. Lou and Tammy would have her head for such carelessness, but she does it anyway. “What’s even better is that no one knows the rest of the story, even now.”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh? What’s that?”

Taking a moment, she weighs her words. In the end, though, there’s nothing to do but spit it out straight. “That the Toussaint wasn’t the only thing we stole.”


End file.
